


Choose Your Own

by BionicallyIronic



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: But also Bucky is Here, Canon? What Canon?, Choose Your Own Adventure, F/M, Fuck Or Die, I do what I want, JARVIS Is Still JARVIS, Not in a Wakandan freezer ziploc, Sex Pollen, light bondage if you squint, mildly dubious consent because of sex pollen, what it says on the tin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9699674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BionicallyIronic/pseuds/BionicallyIronic
Summary: Darcy Lewis happens upon one James Buchanan Barnes at a Stark Industries Employee Orientation and the sparks fly. Then one of them crosses paths with sex pollen. Which character? You decide!





	1. The Setup

**Author's Note:**

> Sex pollen is one of my favorite tropes, so I had to give it a go. Here's how it's going to work!
> 
> 1\. Read chapter one.  
> 2\. Chapters two and three will be published simultaneously. Chapter two is what would happen if Darcy is hit with sex pollen. Chapter three is Bucky.  
> 4\. Chapter four will work as an ending for either choice!
> 
> Shoutout to TaraSoleil, because I loved her use of Ice Bear as a nickname for Bucky and it makes a cameo here.

If the motley assortment of people surrounding Darcy Lewis was anything to go off of, when Stark Industries said new employee training was mandatory for everyone, they meant everyone. A woman in a suit so sharp it could cut paper sat next to a man with his name monogramed over his shirt pocket – clearly one of the many mechanics Stark employed to keep his fleet of sports cars humming at all times. Next to him was a small woman with her inky cloud of curls arranged into a fluffy bun over her head, who already had schematics with SI R&D copyright stamps in the corners in her hands.

For approximately the millionth time in the last fifteen minutes, Darcy wished she’d come to New York with Jane, instead of staying behind in London an extra week to sightsee, because then she’d have a partner in suffering for this four-hour training. But noooo, Darcy had to heckle the guards outside the palace, and now she had selfies with a solemn man in a bearskin hat and a cheap name tag reading Darcy Lewis Science Division stuck to her sweater.

The instructor or guide or whoever was running this shindig rushed through the door five minutes after eight, a neat stack of slim red boxes clutched to his chest, a steaming cup of coffee grasped in his free hand, and the harsh florescent lights bouncing off his bald spot. Darcy settled into the plush rolling chair and artfully arranged her purse on the table so she could doodle caricatures of her fellow SI newbies without anyone noticing. The instructor was writing his name – Robert Belcher – across the whiteboard as the door opened and one last employee entered the room.

Christ on a cracker.

Darcy’s spine whipped to attention as the man’s cool blue eyes swept the room for an empty seat. Was she drooling? There was a very distinct possibility she was. Because a slice of Grade A gorgeousness was headed for the empty seat to her left. The jeans he wore hung gracefully off his hips, but also managed to do wonderful things for his ass. Like, Jesus take the wheel, pull over, and find her a paper bag to hyperventilate in. And should this guy decide to take off his buttery-soft leather jacket so he was just in his white t-shirt, then Jesus should probably find a defibrillator while he was at it.

“Excuse me,” Belcher said, “but you forgot your name tag.”

“Oh, ah, don’t think you have one for me,” Mr. Ridiculously Good Looking said as he sat down next to Darcy. “This was kind of a last minute thing.”

“Hmm, well.” Belcher pulled a blank name tag from his pile of stuff and walked between the rows of tables and chairs to slap it and a marker on the table in front of His Royal Hotness. “Name and department, please.”

Hot Guy arched his eyebrows at that, and after a moment’s pause, wrote JAMES BUCHANAN in large print. After another pause, he added SECURITY, which made him chuckle to himself for some reason.

“Welcome, everyone, to Stark Industries New Employee Orientation,” Belcher said as he slid one of the glossy red boxes in front of every employee. Inside was a shiny new StarkPad. When Darcy turned it on, the first thing to pop up was a photo of Stark from his latest GQ cover and an extensive bio. Well, Darcy thought as she tapped the screen rid herself of Stark’s smarmy smile and swiped through page after page of pre-loaded apps, she might be working for an egomaniac, but at least he was a generous egomaniac. “Your individual departments will guide you through the ins and outs of your work areas, but we've found additional training on select topics to be necessary. Specifically, this morning we’re going to run through company policies on - thank you, Mr. Stark -sexual harassment, and, seeing as how we now work in the target for every villain in the country, emergency protocols.”

While Belcher droned on, Darcy glanced at James Buchanan from the corners of her eyes. He’d slipped the front of his jacket to the side and was sticking his nametag to one chiseled pec. As he tapped the sticker into place, he caught her gaze and smiled, incinerating her panties. This was going to be the longest four hours of her fucking life.

“So!” Becher said, startling Darcy into looking back toward the front of the room. “Pick a partner, find the Sexual Harassment document on your complimentary StarkPad, and go through the information together. When you say the inappropriate phrases aloud, you can usually hear the problem right away. Then discuss ways to treat your coworkers with respect.”

Darcy tapped on the icon for the doc and began to flip through the pages. Holy hell, it was about as long as the doorstop that was the last Harry Potter novel. She jumped a little when someone nudged her shoulder, and when she turned, it was James, wiggling his fingers between the two of them. “You and me?” he asked, nodding toward the doc on the StarkPad. His mouth was a thing of beauty, all plush and made for biting. A dusting of dark stubble covered his jaw and chin, and crap. She was staring. And he’d noticed, if the glimmer in his eyes was anything to go off of.

A flush crept up her cheeks. “Uhm, yeah. Yes! Let me just…” Get it together, Lewis! She scanned the document until she got to the partner exercise…which seemed to involve reciting cheesy, offensive lines to one another. She would really have to ask Thor which god hated her and how she could fix the situation. “Oh my god. Are they serious?”

James leaned in to look at the doc over her shoulder and let out a little snort of laughter. “So, uh, you wanna go first? Ask me if my legs go all the way up?”

Darcy laughed, discarding the document for a line that had actually been used on her once. “Nah. But I am looking for treasure. Can I stare at your chest?”

He grinned. “If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put U and I together.”

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

“If I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?”

Darcy couldn’t do it anymore. The combination of terrible pickup lines and the nervous tension from sitting next to this guy had her throwing her head back and cackling.

“Ms. Lewis!” Belcher snapped. “If I might remind you, successful completion of this training is required in order for you to receive your paycheck.”

Ah, yes. The whole reason anyone in this room gave one iota of a fuck. Darcy mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key. Belcher, most likely deciding that this batch of rejects could not be counted on to do this themselves, began to read through the full policy on sexual harassment verbatim, and the moment Belcher’s gaze went to his StarkPad, she pulled a notebook from her purse.

 _Jesus, what a bag of dicks,_ she wrote.

James nearly laughed out loud, but managed a nice cough-conversion as a save. He pulled her pen from her hand – his fingers warm and calloused as they grazed hers – and wrote, in nice, neat block letters, THAT HE IS. YOU GOT A NAME, DOLL?

Darcy bit back her grin and angled to the side, so he could read her nametag, and he nodded appreciatively. NICE NAME.

She took the pen back, even though she had another in her purse, because it let her touch him again. _Back at you. I like James. It’s nice. Solid. Think that’s why this guy is such an asshole? Because he’s permanently labeled as ‘One Who Belches’?_

THAT AND HE’S A BAG OF DICKS.

Now it was Darcy’s turn to smother a giggle with a cough. They continued to flirt – inappropriately enough – all through the sexual harassment speech. Through the explanation of benefits. And while crouched under the table in a ‘What to Do in the Event of a Building Lockdown’ demo during the Emergency Protocols presentation. The last half hour of the session was devoted to filling out their respective paperwork for HR, and, because of some of the unique avenues Stark Industries pursued, there were more than just the standard In Case of Emergency Call forms.

“Hey,” James said, nudging Darcy’s foot with his own, “what did you put for this one?”

“It’s not a test, dude,” Darcy says as she nudged him back. “There’s no right or wrong...oh.”

The form in question was Emergency Contact Addendum DNT0-F6. And, this particular form specified who to contact and allow contact with should the employee be introduced to any pheromonal neurotoxins.

Pheromones.

As in sex chemicals.

“Holy shit!” Darcy said, taking the StarkPad from James’ grasp. “I thought Jane had been bullshitting me, but this is for real!”

“What’s for real?” James asked, the words drawn long by suspicion.

Darcy leaned in closer, not wanting to garner the attention of Belcher again, and, hey, if it gave her an opportunity to mentally examine James’ aftershave (something both minty and woodsy, like a snowfall in a forest), well that was just a coincidence. “So. Rumor has it that one of the Avenger’s enemies decided to use Stark’s libido against him and developed an airborne toxin that makes you go crazypants until you can fuck the toxins away. Like, literally fuck them away. For a long time, everyone thought it was just a crazy rumor, but this form wants you to list who you’d be okay with fucking in a dire situation, so, yeah. Looks like it’s the real thing.”

She leaned back in her seat, chewing on the end of her pen. “Huh. Now I wonder who the Avengers have on their DTF forms. I’m sure Stark has Pepper Potts, and I know Thor has Jane-y, but like, can Captain America only get it up for the Constitution, or will the flag work in a pinch?”

At that, James did laugh, a wild bark that burst out of him like a shot. Belcher glared at them both, but, given the fact that this whole thing was going to be over in fifteen minutes, didn’t reprimand them or threaten to withhold their paychecks. “Doll,” he said when he finally did calm down enough to talk, “you are somethin’ else.”

Darcy smiled. “And this is me being professional. You should see me when I’m off the clock.”

He smirked, and it was like a shot of whiskey, all warm fire spreading through her belly. “I think I’d like that.”

Belcher cleared his throat then, and jerked his head toward the clock. Just ten minutes left to finish up this (digital) mountain of paperwork.

“So who are you putting there, out of curiosity?” James asked, his voice careful nonchalance. “Boyfriend? Husband?”

“You know, it could be ‘girlfriend’ or ‘wife.’”

James’ blue eyes widened a touch. “Is it?”

Darcy sighed. “Nope. ‘Goin’ on a year now I ain’t had nothin’ twixt my nethers weren’t run on batteries.’”

If before she had managed to make him burst out laughing, this time she’d nearly made him choke on his own tongue. As the other employees looked at the commotion, she patted his back in an effort to help him regain control over his simple motor functions again.

“Dude,” she hissed, “haven’t you seen Firefly?!”

“Like the bug?” James sputtered.

“Like the show! And anyway,” she hoped the distraction would help him in his breathing, though who knew, really, “no boyfriend, no girlfriend.”

Whether from her admission or nature taking its course, James was no longer coughing, though his eyes did look a bit watery around the edges (and all that did, was make his blue eyes brighter, like sea glass). When he finally composed himself, he took his form back from her and returned his attention to it.

“What about you?” Darcy asked, praying she didn’t sound too hopeful. “You got someone to fill in that blank?”

That charming smirk returned to James’ face as he glanced over at her. “As it happens, I do not.”

Darcy nodded decisively. Just the facts, ma’am, only the facts. “Well, if you don’t have anyone to put there, and I don’t have anyone to put there, what if we were to put each other down? And if you maybe wanted to get coffee this weekend, so we could get to know each other and it wouldn’t be awkward if they ever have to use this form, I’d be okay with that.”

James’ grin stretched wider. “Doll. Did you just ask me out?”

“Technically, I asked you to be my ‘Who to Fuck in Case of Emergency’ with a side of asking you out.”

“A two-for-one deal? Well, I’d be a fool to pass that up.” He slid his StarkPad over to Darcy for her to fill out her info, and motioned to hers so he could do the same. After that, she made him program his number into her phone, then shot off a text and a selfie so he’d have her info, too.

As Belcher released the group to finally go to their departments, James walked Darcy to the elevators. “I gotta meet my team in the basement levels, otherwise I’d ask you to lunch right now, but coffee Friday night?”

Darcy was so grateful for having enough sense to wait until she was in the elevator to do her dance of joy. “Friday night sounds great.”

He rolled his lower lip into his mouth, biting down a little as he slowly released it. And boom go the ovaries.

“Friday,” he said. “Perfect.”

 

Except...

 

That Friday, at 5 p.m., James had just finished running a few laps around the gym in the basement when he received a text and a photo. The message said, _Bosslady is making me work literally all night and I can’t get out of it. Rain check on coffee, pleeeeeeeease?_ The photo was of Darcy, her full lips pushed into an over exaggerated pout while she pointed over her shoulder, where a small brunette woman glared at the camera.

Bucky tilted his head. Was that…? He snorted out a laugh. She was wearing one of those illegally merchandised t-shirts that street vendors hawked on every corner around the tower. On it, a pink and yellow Iron Man was firing a repulsor beam at a violently purple Hulk. In big bubble letters at the top, it read, “He blinded me with science!”

She didn’t know he was part of the team, did she? He thought he’d been discreet enough, but maybe he was wrong. He’d suss that out on their date. Maybe once he found out her clearance level, he could determine whether or not she could know he was (part-time, at least) an Avenger.

 _No worries, sweetheart_ , Bucky typed. _How about I let you sleep in tomorrow and we shoot for Sunday?_

 _OMG, considerate enough to let me sleep tomorrow away and ridiculously good-looking? You are the actual BEST._ Darcy followed up her message with another picture, this one with her crimson lips forming a perfect kiss.

This girl. She was like every one of his hopes and dreams wrapped into a package pretty enough to grace the side of a bomber jet.

Another text came in from Darcy. _Turnabout is fair play, you know. ;)_

Bucky glanced at his reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors. Sweat ran in rivulets down his throat and arms, and soaked into his shirt. The cutoff sleeves and neck showed off his prosthetic and the scarring where it joined his body. He’d worn the fancy synthetic skin cover Stark had made him while in that employee training – no need to cause the civilians to flip their shit – but if they were going to date, she’d wind up seeing it at some point. Still, he’d rather ease her into those waters. So he angled the left side of his body away from the mirrors and took a picture of his reflection, remembering to throw the camera a smirk before he clicked the button.

 

Sixty-three stories above the gym...

 

“By Grabthar’s Hammer, Jaaaaane!!”

There was a crash, either something falling onto the floor, or a human head colliding into equipment, and good, because Jane deserved it for making her miss her date with the slab of human deliciousness currently texting her the one photo that she would ever need in her spank bank until the end of her days.

“What?” Jane asked, walking a crooked path into the lab as she rubbed her head. “Is everything okay? Is one of the machines malfunctioning?!”

“No, everything is most decidedly not okay.” Darcy shoved her phone an inch away from Jane’s face. “I need you to know that this is what I have given up for you in the name of science.”

Jane pulled back a few inches to allow the photo to come into focus, but as soon as it did, she squinted and leaned in closer for a better look. “Oh. Oh! Would it make you feel better to know this phenomenon only occurs once every hundred years?”

“No.”

“What if I said I was going to have the coffee shop downstairs bring us mocha chip frappes every hour from now till they close?”

Darcy jutted her chin in way she hoped made her look firm and unyielding. “Done. You will also promise to leave me alone when I go on our rescheduled date this Sunday.”

Jane stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

 

Except…

 

Darcy had just jammed the pin securing the final hot roller to her head and was about to sink into a bathtub happily fizzing with two of her favorite bath bombs in preparation for her date when her phone dinged.

 _Doll, please don’t kill me._ A pic came in of a duffle bag nestled between two black-booted feet. _My boss is sending me to a training facility upstate. I have to leave right now. Coffee when I get back?_

It was official. The universe hated her. But she could be a big girl. _Of course!_ she texted. _We’ll meet up as soon as you get back._ And she could definitely give James something to make sure he wouldn’t miss their re-rescheduled date. So she stepped into the tub and sank into the hot water. The bath bombs had filled the tub with pink bubbles, and Darcy artfully arranged them with one hand while angling her phone to take a selfie with the other. Making sure to crop out her head full of hot rollers and to only give a peek of her smile and water-slicked cleavage, she snapped a pic.

 

On the landing pad, roof of Stark Tower...

 

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky knew he needed to get on the helicopter. And he also knew that if he wanted to continue to keep the others from knowing about Darcy, he'd have to pick his jaw up off the ground some time this century.

“Who're you texting, Barnes?” Clint asked as he hauled his own go bag toward the landing pad.

Bucky quickly turned the phone away, but this was fucking Hawkeye, so the wicked grin could only mean that he saw something.

“Are you texting a giiiiiiirrrl?” Clint asked.

“Are you five?” Bucky countered.

“Send her a dick pic.”

Bucky scowled. “Christ, Barton, is that what I think it is?”

Before Clint could answer, he was jostled from behind as Natasha strode toward the landing pad. “Either of you send an unsolicited dick pic to a woman and it will be the one reminder you have of the way your genitals looked before I destroyed them.”

They watched Natasha approach the helicopter and its slowly spinning rotors, until Clint finally said, “I might risk it.”

As soon as Barton was a safe distance away, Bucky typed out a quick message to Darcy. _Kitten, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to torture me. I’ll text as soon as I’m back._ A flash of panic overtook him as he hit send, afraid that her response will include a request for a photo of himself. And, seeing as he was decked head to toe in black tac gear, that was a no go.

But thankfully, Darcy simply texted back a photo of her lips puckered into a kiss. Bucky tucked his phone into one of the many zippered pockets on his thigh and hopped aboard the helicopter, already looking forward to his re-rescheduled date with Darcy.

 

Except…

 

The mission that was supposed to last a week turned into two weeks. And then, one of the Hydra agents they encountered let the location of another point of operations slip, and the team immediately went to wipe them out in the hopes of catching them by surprise. And then another. And another. All the while, communications were prohibited, as stealth was of the utmost importance.

Darcy texted at the end of that first week, hoping James would want to go on their date ASAP.

No response.

So a couple of days later, she tried again, sending him a photo of her legs kicked up on the balcony railing, the New York sunset burning brightly behind them.

Nothing.

Two weeks after James had left, Darcy was beginning to feel a little worried. Four weeks, a shared pitcher of margaritas with Jane, and not a peep out of James Buchanan had Darcy more than a little pissed. Week five saw a dip in her self-esteem; was she suddenly not good enough for James? Week six saw a resurgence in her anger, and by the time James had been gone for exactly eight weeks, Darcy was ready to move on. So she did. Good riddance to that flirty, absolutely delicious-looking but definitely unreliable James Buchanan.

Week nine, there was a phone call from HR.


	2. Then It Could Have Gone Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets pollened

Darcy was tidying Tony’s lab while he was bunkered down in Jane’s. She’d totally used Science! against him, letting slip that Jane had just put the finishing touches on some new doohickey, but, in her defense, there were coffee mugs growing civilizations that were probably one generation away from a hostile takeover of Earth, so the deceit was necessary.  She had barely destroyed two of said civilizations by soaking them in the sink when Jarvis interrupted her.

“Ms. Lewisss…” 

Darcy’s head whipped to the ceiling. Jarvis sounded like he’d been on a three-day bender, and considering that Jarvis seemed like the kind of AI who’d accept the cocktail you’d given him and then discreetly dump it out into a nearby planter, that slur was Bad News Bears.

“Jarvis?” Darcy asked, her gaze rapidly flicking about the room.

“Ms. Lewisss…I’mmm compromised… _run_!”

Darcy did not need to be told twice.

She darted through Tony’s chaos, between lab tables covered in shards of metal, over wires gathered like nests of snakes on the floor. Off in the distance, she could hear doors pneumatically sealing shut, and shortly after, the alarms began to wail.

The glass doors were twenty feet away when they began to close. She could make it. She was totally going to pull an Indiana Jones-type slide to safety, the door closing seconds after she crossed the threshold. Then her foot snagged on an extension cord.

Darcy went sprawling across the cold floor as the door sealed itself shut with a hiss. As she pulled herself to her feet, she saw a trickle of dark smoke pouring from the air vents.

“No, no, no, no, _no!_ ”

She pulled the tails of her flannel shirt to cover her nose and mouth, but the smoke continued to flow from the vents until the room became hazy. She wanted to scream for help, for someone to release her from this potential death pit. But she also didn’t want to take in any more of this smoke or gas or whatever than necessary. So she settled for pounding on the reinforced glass doors.

But no one came. And eventually, she passed out. 

 

~*~

 

It was hot as balls when Darcy woke up. Her limbs were achy and heavy. Fire coursed through her veins, from her fingertips and through her arms, from her littlest toe up her calves and thighs. It burned the brightest at her center, like flames licking up the walls of her body.

When she pushed herself up, she noticed that she was in some sort of observation room. She sat on a bed plusher than those found in most hospitals, but still covered in sterile white sheets and one of those terrible, scratchy, waffle-weave blankets. Just sitting on top of the blankets was too hot. As she stood, she saw the glass set in the wall to her left, which had to be a two-way mirror. It made her pause in taking off her flannel shirt, but she _had_ to, she was burning up. But before she could, a voice came over the intercom.

“Darcy?”

“Janey!” Darcy ran to the glass, shielding her eyes from the light in the hopes it would let her see into the room beyond. But all she saw was her reflection, her eyes wide, pupils dilated like whoa, and with a fine sheen of sweat coating her skin. “Jane, what the hell is going on?”

There was a click then Jane’s voice again, her voice oddly muffled by the intercom. “The tower was attacked. Very specifically, Tony’s lab. In an effort to incapacitate him.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, shortstack,” Tony said. The sounds of shuffling papers filled the silence.

“I’m in here because of _you_?!” Darcy yelled.

“Well, not _technically_ , per se,” Tony said. “I mean, _I_ didn’t gas you. But, on that important topic…” Darcy heard Tony droning on about the gas, she really did. But she also heard the rapid thrumming of her heart, her blood rushing in her ears. She was picking at the buttons of her flannel again when, “…whoa, there, Chesty LaRue. I’d check out your goods like a book from the library, but I’m not on your pre-consent form. Don’t worry, we’re tracking him down, though.”

Jesus, buttons were hard. “Tracking down who now?” she asked as she fumbled with the next button down. “And why?”

“Barnes,” Tony said. “Your lady bits’ plus one. Hey, how did you meet him, anyway?”

God, but her clothes were _smothering_ her, and if she did not get them off ASAP, she was going to flip her shit. “Don’t know a Barnes,” she grunted as she gripped onto her shirt and pulled, popping off the buttons.

 

~*~

 

Jane slammed her palm against the intercom button on the other side of the glass, prohibiting Darcy from hearing her conversation with Tony. “Umm. I’ve seen Darcy struggle to get a bag of Doritos open, and I sincerely doubt she’s been lifting weights in her time off. Is this some weird side effect of the gas?”

Tony ripped his gaze from the girl on the other side of the glass, who was now struggling with the laces on her boots, oblivious to the fact that they were decorative, and that she should be using the zipper instead. “Yeaahhh, things are moving at a slightly more accelerated pace then when those yahoos tried to gas me. Must’ve tweaked their formula. Jarvis, give me a reading on Lewis’ vitals.”

“Sir,” Jarvis said, “Ms. Lewis’ temperature is at 101 degrees and rising. Her blood pressure is also elevated, at 150 over 90.”

Jane cocked her head as she watched her assistant. “What’s happening to her?”

“You know how Lewis says you get ‘hangry’ when you haven’t eaten a real meal in 12 or more hours?” Tony asked, following the question with a tiny, “Yay!” when Darcy finally got a boot off.

“I do _not_ get hangry,” Jane said, crossing her arms, “I just become more and more easily irritated.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” Tony took his phone from his pocket and thumbed through the contacts before selecting one. The tinny sound of the phone ringing could be heard when he paused for breath. “Anywho. It’s like that, except instead of sandwiches, Lewis needs orgasms. Lots of them. The more of them she has, the quicker her temperature and blood pressure will go down. Damn. She’s ignoring me again. Jarvis! Get HR to call Romanov, immediately. Barnes needs to get his ass down here, yesterday..”

 

~*~

 

There was probably no one on the planet who wanted Hydra decimated more than Bucky, but if Natasha had just taken a call with intel on another base for them to go destroy when they were three minutes out from Stark tower, he was going to jump from the ‘copter and take his chances. They’d been gone a full eight weeks longer than anticipated. He’d slept on cement floors, in motels beds dirtier than said cement floors, and – just the once, thank god – a forest in the middle of a rainstorm. Bucky could go a long time without creature comforts, but when you added in the fact that he had probably lost all chances with Darcy, he was done. At least for a little while. He wanted a shower. He wanted his bed. And he wanted a minimum of twelve hours of sleep. Almost as if she could hear his mutinous thoughts, the redhead’s gaze swiveled to him.

“Yeah, I got him.” More silence, then a clipped, “Will do.”

“Tell me we ain’t goin’ back out there,” Bucky said, Brooklyn accent peeking through his weariness.

“Well,” Natasha said, a wry smile gracing her lips as the helicopter closed in on the landing pad, “we’re not going back out there, but you’re going in somewhere.”

The helicopter continued its descent to the landing pad at the top of Stark Tower, and as they approached, a lone, goateed figure began to take shape.

“Ice Bear!” Tony Stark stood on the edge of the landing pad, hair ruffled by the slowing helicopter rotors. He took Bucky’s arm and tugged him toward the elevators while yammering away in his mile-a-minute patter. “Bet you’re not laughing about that training seminar I made you go to a couple months back now, are ya? We need you in the med bay, STAT.”

Bucky yanked his arm from Stark’s grasp. “Look, pal, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about right now, but I don’t need med bay; I’m not hurt. All I want is a shower and a bed.”

“Well I can definitely get you one of those things,” Stark muttered. “Didn’t Romanov tell you?”

Natasha breezed past him. “This all happened because the goons were after _you_ , Tony. Way I see it, it’s your circus, your monkeys. Though if Darcy is permanently hurt, well…”

“Wait,” Bucky said, boots squeaking on the tiled floor of the elevator as he halted abruptly. “Darcy Lewis? What does she have to do with anything?”

Stark stepped into the elevator. “Medical, Jarvis,” he said as he swept his hand through the air, a trail of glowing vital signs pulsing and jumping in its wake. “Darcy got a hit of the pheromone toxin some big bad of the week tried to use on me a while back. Well, a super juiced up version of that toxin. We’re still running tests, but here’s what we know.”

Tony pinched at one of the infographics and pulled it forward, showing Darcy’s steadily climbing blood pressure and temperature. “One of the chemicals is an endorphin blocker, which is keeping her in a constant state of pain and distress. She needs a big push of endorphins to break through the block. Now, there are several ways to trigger a release of endorphins, _but_ this drug was engineered so that orgasming while under the influence of this drug triggers a huge influx of endorphins, and it’s the only way to push past the block. To put it in layman’s terms, she needs you for the sexing, immediately.”

Bucky scrubbed his hand down his face, the burn of stubble on his palm grounding him in reality. Because this had to be some kind of nightmare. The girl he’d been head over heels for needed him, but he’d probably fucked things up so badly by being gone for so long _and_ dishonest about it that she wouldn’t even want him to help her. “What if she doesn’t want me to help?”

“Aside from the fact that we’re facing permanent brain damage if something isn’t done soon, trust me when I say she’s going to want help.” Tony pushed Bucky into the observation room. The one-way glass had been darkened, so no one could see in, but Tony walked over to an electrical board with switches and buttons set up in front of it. He clicked one blinking button, and suddenly the audio was coming in loud and clear…and if Bucky was the blushing sort, then he’d be redder than a fire engine about now. Loud moans filled the room, but before Bucky’s dick could do more than twitch, Tony shut the audio down again. “Lewis has been, ah, giving herself a hand for a while now, but it doesn’t work as well. Touch helps create oxytocin, and the more oxytocin the better. And Medical tells me she’s up-to-date on her contraceptive, so, hop to, soldier!”

Tony began to push Bucky toward the door when a tiny brunette jumped in front of them. Bucky felt the sting of her slap before he even registered what was going on. “You hurt her again,” the woman said, “and you’ll have me to deal with. And I know how to make a you-sized wormhole that’ll fling you across space.” Without another word, she brushed past him, and let the door slam shut behind her.

“What the…”

Tony interrupted. “That’s Foster. Lewis’ boss, bestie, renowned astrophysicist. So, don’t piss her off. She’s got stakes and can back up her threat. In you go!” He pushed Bucky through the door before Bucky could protest, but even if Tony had stayed to hear them, Bucky wouldn’t have been capable of words.

Darcy sprawled across the bed at the center of the room, her legs thrown wide and her slender fingers between them. A bright pink flush colored her cheeks, and a light sheen of sweat made her skin glisten. She began to shake as her fingers flicked at her clit, crying out as an orgasm ripped through her. But almost as soon as it was over, the tremors running through her quieting to almost nothing, she sobbed, pounding her fist into the plush mattress. Bucky had been frozen on the spot, stuck somewhere between not believing what he was seeing and not believing he was lucky enough to _see_ what he was seeing, but the pain in her last cry had been too much.

“Darcy?” Bucky said quietly from his place by the door. He took a step forward, and the room was so small, his thighs were already brushing against the end of the bed.

Darcy’s head whipped toward him, curls spilling across the pillow. A feverish heat made her eyes gleam, though she appraised Bucky with a shrewd look that said she wasn’t completely out of her mind just yet. She pushed herself to sit up, her gaze raking over all the parts of Bucky she could see. It made him oddly nervous, like even though he was fully outfitted in his tactical gear and she completely naked, _he_ was prey. But before he had too long to dwell on the tangle of nerves in his belly, she was up and crawling on all fours toward him.

When she reached the edge of the bed where he stood, she rose to her knees, hands skimming along Bucky’s arms. He swallowed, fully expecting her to flinch at the metal exposed by his short sleeves, but she just brought his arm closer, murmuring, “So cold,” as she brought his hand to her cheek.

“James?” Her voice was scratchy, hoarse, like she’d screamed till her throat was raw. Her fingers went to the straps crisscrossing his chest, fumbling at the many buckles.

It took him two tries, but eventually, he managed to say, “Yeah, doll?”

“I need…” The words trailed off into a low whine as she struggled to pull a strap free. “I _need_ …” Her fingers slipped on a metal clasp, catching on the edge and cutting into her skin.

At the sight of blood, Bucky panicked. He grabbed her hand to inspect the cut marring her smooth skin, and, satisfied it was shallow, he took hold of her wrists and held them both behind her back with his metal hand. “Let me take care of you, Darcy. Can I take care of you?”

She strained against his grip, just enough to be able to nuzzle at his jaw with her mouth. He could feel her nod, and the burr of her lips against his scruff as she said, “Yes, _please_ , James, please.”

That would have to do.

He kept her hands tight behind her, not wanting to risk her hurting herself further, and slipped his flesh hand between her legs. The heat at the apex of her thighs was more than he could have imagined, and the slick of her arousal coated his fingers, allowing him to sink into her with ease. As his fingertips dragged along her inner walls, her head fell back, and a long, low moan of unmistakable pleasure rumbled through her.

His cock _ached_. But this was about her, and only her. He wouldn’t take advantage. Darcy darted forward to lick a stripe along his jaw, and he shivered. Well. Wouldn’t take advantage _much._

“More, James.” Her hips bucked on his hand, and he tugged on her wrists until she stilled. Then he brought his thumb to circle around her clit. She jolted as though shocked with an electrical current, then tipped her head back and sighed. Her breasts bounced as she rode his fingers, nipples grazing the leather straps of his tactical gear. He wanted to _feel_ her, to have her pink-tipped breasts brushing his chest, the slip of her sweat-slick skin against his, to press the hard length of his dick to her entrance…

_Shit._

Bucky locked his lips at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, muffling his groan of want. Thankfully it was masked by Darcy’s own moan of pleasure as she came. He eased her through it, glad that this torture was finally over and that he could hit the showers and take care of his own needs. But the moment he pulled his hand away, Darcy whimpered, and Bucky knew his work wasn’t done just yet.

Her eyes were bright and shiny, the pupils blown wide, and her lips were pink and swollen as she pulled away from him and said, “ _More._ ”

 

~*~

 

The aftershocks of Darcy’s orgasm quickly faded into nothing, but still that damnable heat coursed through her. Somehow, she knew, _knew_ that she needed to feel James, to have his chest pressed to hers, to taste the salty tang of his skin on her tongue. And so she said, “ _More_.”

At her demand, James’ grip on her wrists tightened (and damn, but she might need to explore this kink with him a little more later) and his blue eyes widened. “Darcy, I--”

She darted forward, close enough to take his earlobe between her teeth and nibble. “Get naked and fuck me.”

A shiver ran through him as James clenched his eyes shut, and for a brief moment, Darcy figured she was shit out of luck. His breath tickled along her skin, setting her nerves alight. Then he released her wrists and began to unbuckle the straps over his chest. In seconds he managed to slip out of his tac vest and Kevlar shirt, and he crawled on top of her.

She flattened her palms across his chest, and tiny tendrils of relief crept down her fingers. _Yes._ The moment she pressed her breasts to his bare chest that relief doubled. That was also the moment James’ doubts seemed ready to get the better of him, and he began to pull away. She couldn’t let that happen. So she flicked at the button of his pants, slid her hand inside, and curved her fingers around his cock.

A gasp stuttered out of him, and those pretty blue eyes fluttered shut as she clawed at his pants with her free hand. Eyes still firmly closed, Bucky reached down to help her, pushing his fatigues down until he could wriggle out of them. He lowered himself on top of her, and as he nestled between her thighs, a deep, full-body shudder rolled through her body.

“Fuck _yes_ ,” she said. James began to trail a line of open-mouthed kisses down her throat, before moving lower, dragging his lips over the swell of one breast. When he moved lower still, breaking off skin-to-skin contact, Darcy whined in displeasure, only to have that whine turn into a happy groan when he threw her legs over his shoulders.

The tentative swipes of his tongue across her clit were enough to make her back arch off the bed. Sensing her approval, James stroked harder, wide, firm laps that had the next orgasm cresting rapidly. It crashed into her like an ocean wave, a warm, bright thing that made the edges of her vision go fuzzy. She clawed at James’ shoulders, pulling him up the length of her body. “James, please…I _need--”_

“I got you, doll,” James said as he brushed tendrils of sweaty hair from her forehead, “I got you.”

Lining up his body with hers, James eased inside of her. For a moment, they were still except for the rapid risings of their chests. Then he began to move.

He started with slow, sure thrusts of his hips, trying to be careful. But when Darcy bucked up to meet him, causing their skin to meet with a filthy _smack_ , that was all it took to make him throw caution to the wind. She let out a little moan each time he drove home, and he seemed to be doing his best to make those moans run together into one long, continuous sound of pleasure. He mouthed at her neck before latching onto the spot just below her ear and sucking. The furious pace he’d set had his cock stroking along her inner walls…just… _right…_ and then he brought up a hand to tug at her nipple and that was all it took to push her over.

She’d thought the last orgasm had been mind-blowing but this one topped even that. The heat coursing through her body morphed into something mellow and soft, replacing all of the pain she’d felt before. She could have been floating, given how wonderful she felt. She was aware enough to feel James’ pace falter then stop completely as he reached his own climax, his forehead dipping to touch hers as he shuddered through his release. Gingerly, as though she was made of glass, he withdrew. The last thing she remembered was his arms curling around her, one of them so cold she had a sudden flash of insight – _holy shit, I think I just fucked the Winter Soldier_ – but as quick as the thought coalesced, it was gone, and all she felt was secure and safe.

When she woke, she was alone.


	3. Or It Could Have Gone Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets pollened

The last two months had been downright miserable. The simple one-week mission Bucky had embarked on had morphed into almost nine weeks of pinging around the country in order to catch Hydra cells unprepared and destroy them. Natasha, who had been gathering the intel and coordinating their moves, had sworn this was it. The warehouse they stood in had no viable information on any other locations besides those they’d already torched and burned. For now, however brief that ‘now’ might be, they were done.

Also most likely done? Whatever shot he’d had with Darcy.

He’d been hard pressed to think about anything other than her the whole time he was gone. He thought about the way she’d chuckle low in her throat, and wondered if he could keep going and get a full belly laugh out of her. How she’d teased him as they’d texted back and forth, including sending that last picture of her in the bath. Jesus Christ. He’d nearly said screw it and turned right around there on the helipad.

And now? Now he’d be lucky if she spared him a glance if they passed in the lobby.

He sighed as he slammed the cover on the circuit breaker. Natasha, Steve, and Barton were all headed back to the jet as Bucky ensured the wiring they had laid for the network of bombs to decimate the place was secure. It was good, but when setting up a place as big as this warehouse for demo, you couldn’t be too safe. Bucky clicked his comm unit on. “All good here. Setting it to blow,” he said. “120 seconds and I’m on my way out.”

“Copy that,” Steve said.

But as he dragged his hand over the cover on the circuit breaker, paint flaked off a bright red wire taped to the side of the box. It wasn’t one of theirs, and it should _not_  have been there. Time was running short, but there was a gnawing in the pit of his stomach that said this was bad news. He had to check. The _tick tick ticking_ of the timer thudded in his ears as he followed the wire around the corner and down a hall.

The hall dead-ended and there, tucked innocuously into a corner, were several tall tanks with hoses running to the ceiling. How in the hell had they missed these the first time around? He was inclined to blame Barton. The hoses trailed back the way he came, every now and then ending in a strange little vent.

“God _damn_ it,” Bucky said. The timer was still ticking down, and his super soldier hearing could pick up the faint cries of his name coming from his teammates. The last thing he needed was for one of them to come looking for him when there was the possibility of an unknown airborne agent at play. He ran for the exit, his heavy footfalls echoing in the deserted hall. All that mattered now was getting clear of the building and making sure no one else from his team was nearby when the implosion went off.

The bright shaft of light from the open warehouse doors almost made him sigh in relief. But then a staticky hiss filled the air as the intercoms suddenly switched on. “Hail Hydra!” a voice said. “Hail Hydra! Hail Hydra! Hail Hydra!” Dark gray smoke began to spill from the vents, and Bucky ducked his head and _ran_.

“Stay back!” he yelled as he ran into the daylight. He waved his arms in warning, trying to hold off an already-approaching Steve. “ _Back!_ ”

He’d barely cleared the building when there was a low, muffled _FOOM_ , and the bombs did their jobs. Everything had been structured for a nice, safe implosion, but no one had factored that unidentified gas into play. A cloud of dust and smoke billowed outward and enveloped Bucky, and though he tried to hold his breath as he ran, it was impossible to do both. He could make out the vague shape of the jet in the clearing smoke, hear his teammates worried babble, and then the ground rose to meet him and everything went dark.

~*~

The rapid thumping of the helicopter blades had replaced the beating of his heart. Bucky knew it was too fast, way too fast, but he had far more pressing concerns to deal with – shucking off all his clothes. His skin was itching, crawling, _burning_ , and the base, primal instinct in his brain telling him to tear off the heavy gear was making it worse.

He was cognizant enough to make out most of Natasha’s one-sided conversation. “No, only Barnes got hit. He was covering our six…I don’t know what it was, but I did read the reports on what happened to you that one time, and I also know that two and two make four, so…We had to restrain him, he was…distraught…Look, we’re there in three, and I am telling you, _make the goddamned call._ ”

Natasha hung up and crossed the narrow space until she stood in Bucky’s line of sight. It didn’t take a mastermind either to see that though she made sure he could see who was talking, he couldn’t touch. “James, hold on. I think I know what the gas was, and if I’m right, there is a way to greatly diminish the side effects you’re feeling, but we can’t do anything until we reach the medical bay.”

He strained against the straps pinning him to the gurney. Why the fuck had they tied him down? What had happened in between him passing out and now? All he’d wanted was for this damned heat to go the fuck away. The helicopter began its downward descent, and Bucky clenched his fists.

~*~

Darcy stood in front of Jane, a roast beef on rye on a plate in one hand, the other balled into a fist on her hip. “I swear to god, Janey, if you don’t put that wrench down and eat a goddamn sandwich, I am going to make Jarvis lock you out of the labs for forty-eight hours.”

That got her attention. Jane looked up, the goggles on her face magnifying her already ginormous eyes to the point where she looked like a Disney cartoon. “Has it been twelve hours already?”

“Fourteen. If we don’t count your two hour nap in the lounge, then you’ve been working for nearly thirty-six hours straight.” Darcy waggled the plate. “Time for a break.” Using the food as a lure, Darcy began to walk backwards out of the lab, determined to get Jane to the lounge so she could actually relax, not just eat with one hand and work with the other, until she bumped up into a very firm chest.

The plate fell to the ground, and Darcy whirled, ready to tear the sandwich murder into pieces. She glared when she saw Tony standing there, the next wayward scientist on her list. “Look, Tony, if this is some indicator of the self-care impaired ganging up on me so I’ll let you work uninterrupted, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Sorry, shortstack, not that.” A furrow grew between Tony’s brows, one that had Darcy concerned. She never saw that furrow unless some bad shit was going down. “But your assets are required elsewhere.”

The power of the furrow was such that Darcy let Tony hook his arm through hers and lead her to the elevators. Tony stepped into the elevator and swept his hand through the air, a trail of glowing vital signs pulsing and jumping in its wake. “There’s not a lot of time, so I’m going to cut right to it. Bucky got a hit of the pheromone toxin some big bad of the week tried to use on me a while back. Well, a super juiced up version of that toxin. We’re still running tests, but here’s what we know.”

Tony pinched at one of the infographics and pulled it forward, showing the glowing outline of a man and his steadily climbing blood pressure and temperature. “One of the chemicals is an endorphin blocker, which is keeping him in a constant state of pain and distress. And, surprise, surprise, orgasms release oxytocin, which trigger the release of endorphins. Now, there are several ways to release endorphins, but this drug was engineered so that orgasming while under the influence of this drug triggers a huge influx of endorphins, and it’s the best – and only - way to push past the block. To put it in layman’s terms, you need to love him long time, immediately.”

Darcy stumbled backward, hands blindly groping for the rail running along the interior of the elevator. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. One, unless you’re a member of my lady guild, no orgasm talk before five p.m. and two margaritas. Two, why exactly are you talking to me about orgasms and oxytocin anywho? And three, who the hell is Bucky?”

The doors opened up into the crisp white-walled hallways of the medbay, Tony leading Darcy out when she didn’t immediately follow. “My rebuttal: One, please send Jarvis the deets on how to become a member of your lady guild, because I’m betting you have zero male members and refusing to add me would surely be in violation of Stark Industry’s equal opportunity program. Two, because of the pre-consent form you filled out when you started working here, and three, Bucky is the dude who put _you_ down on his pre-consent form, duh. How did you guys meet, anyway?”

Darcy thought her brain might explode. At least she was already in the med bay. “What? And, I mean… _what?!_ ”

Instead of answering immediately, Tony just sighed and put his thumb to the plate beside one non-descript door in a row of non-descript doors. He grabbed the hem of her flannel shirt and yanked her in, waiting until the door hissed shut behind her before changing the privacy setting on the two-way mirror so she could see into the adjoining room.

James was lying down on a plush white bed in the center of a plain room, but he didn’t look peaceful. Straps tethered him to the mattress at his wrists, ankles, shoulders, and waist. As he strained against the thick leather, veins popped up at his neck and temple.

“Oh, shit,” Darcy said as she reached up to touch the glass. And then the black tac gear and the name Bucky and the silvery arm triggered a memory of sifting through the info dump that had accompanied the fall of SHEILD – James Buchanan was _Bucky Barnes_. “Oh, _shit_!”

“Oh shit is correct,” Tony said, going uncharacteristically quiet. “The serum _is_ working a little – he’s more aware than I was when I was hit with this stuff. But if we don't do something soon, we're looking at permanent brain damage, not to mention harming himself or others. But the straps _will_ hold, I promise you, so if you decide to go in there, you'll be safe. And now the twenty-four thousand dollar question, shortstack - you in? Or you out?”

As she watched through what she assumed was a one-way mirror, James threw his head back onto the pillow beneath his head, his eyes scrunched shut in pain. She might be pissed that he'd ignored her for weeks, but…

“I'm in.”

She could tell Tony was relieved because he began to chatter about how Jarvis would monitor the situation to ensure she was safe physically and that Medical had already confirmed that Darcy’s contraceptives were good to go, but she was only kind of listening. Then Tony gently pushed her through the door, and the moment she was over the threshold, James’ eyes were on her.

“Darcy,” he said. The skin around his eyes was tense, and he looked as though he was about to grovel. And while Darcy of five weeks ago would have insisted on a bare modicum of groveling to make up for ditching her, Darcy right now couldn't.

“Hey,” she said softly, closing the short distance to his bedside and gripping his fingers with hers. His skin was burning, and if she didn’t know better, she’d wager that he was about to literally explode. She bent toward him, and when her hair grazed his bare arm, he shivered. “I'm here to make you feel better, James. Will you let me do what I can to make you feel better?”

He nodded and licked his dry lips. “Please, Darcy, please.”

She usually liked her consent to fall somewhere in the spectrum of ‘enthusiastic,’ but that’d have to do. She climbed onto the bed, feeling a little graceless but pretty sure James was far too out of it to care. As she settled her thighs around his waist and wondered where to begin, the intercom hissed to life.

“Shortstack,” Tony said, “internal body temp is getting a little too high. Whatever you're going to do, do it quick.”

Darcy glared at the one-way mirror from atop James’ legs. “Little hard to make with the sexy when your fucking boss keeps fucking interrupting you.”

“Ah, yup, yup. Can see the problem there. Over and out.”

The intercom went dead, and James gave a little frustrated groan. “Think you could use that dirty mouth of yours to help me out and kiss me?”

The rasp of his voice sent tingles down her spine, and she immediately ducked down to kiss him. Restrained as he was, he still tried to dominate the kiss. He stretched toward her, the muscles in his neck cording beneath her fingers. She sucked on his lower lip, trying to unbuckle the strap around his shoulders, when he tore his mouth from hers.

“No,” he said, desperation in his voice. “Not yet. They said,” he swallowed, wincing as though even that caused him pain, “they said I didn’t react well to the toxin on the plane. I could hurt you.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Darcy said. She wriggled down his thighs until she was perched on his knees. James drew in a sharp breath when he lost the little skin-to-skin contact he’d had, but let it loose in a shuddering gasp when Darcy quickly unfastened his pants and reached inside to grab his cock.

James’ thrust into her palm was cut short by the strap cinched tight around his waist. Fine. Darcy Lewis was never one to back away from a challenge.

She hooked her fingers into the waist of his tac pants and briefs and tugged them down just far enough to free his erection. Her hands were particularly pale against his flushed skin as she gripped his hips, and with that reminder of her mission and its consequences, she licked a wide stripe up the underside of his cock before taking the head into her mouth.

He was salty sweet on her tongue, filling her mouth almost completely. But she hollowed out her cheeks and drew him in even deeper, stroking the silky skin that couldn’t fit in her mouth with her hand. The leather straps securing his wrists creaked as his hands strained toward her, and some distant, small part of her glowed with the pride at the thought that _she_ was the wrecking him so completely, pheromone toxin be damned.

Primal, desperate moans filled the room and Darcy knew he was close. She doubled her efforts, the sloppy, wet sounds of her mouth on his dick joining the sinful cries coming from his throat. His hips bucked upward unexpectedly, once, twice…and then he was moaning his release as her mouth filled with the bitter taste of him.

He shuddered as he came down, body going limp on the bed. There. She’d done her good deed for the month, for the year even. Because if blowing the Winter Solder (and god but there had to be a snow blowing joke somewhere in there) so he wouldn’t go berserk didn’t earn you brownie points, then what did? Now she could find somewhere to hide and deal with the fact that she’d just given head to the guy who’d ignored her for weeks and would not probably ignore her for the rest of her damned life.

She’d already loosened the straps around his ankles and waist and was working on those around his wrists when his hips surged into hers and he said, “ _More._ ”

~*~

The fire running through his veins had calmed but still burned. Even though he’d just had an earth-shattering orgasm, his cock still stood at attention. He needed more, and somehow he knew the only way to douse the flames, the only way to feel sated was to have her skin flush against his.

“Doll, I need to touch you,” he said, barely recognizing the gravely pitch to his voice. “ _Please_.” The leather creaked and stretched, but with the thick band of it running over his chest and his angle, he couldn’t get the leverage needed to break them.

Darcy still sat astride him, lips plump and pink and with a pretty flush to her cheeks. She bit into that plush lower lip and furrowed her brow at him. “I thought you just…Wasn’t…”

“ _Please_ ,” he said again, desperate to touch her, kiss her.

She dug her teeth into her lip so hard, Bucky was afraid she’d draw blood, but then she simply said, “Fuck it,” and got to work on one of the straps.

The moment his hand was free he reached for her, rucking up her flannel shirt until he felt the smooth skin of her hip beneath his fingers. The relief from even that tiny bit of touch was so great he thought he might faint. He was so focused on the reprieve from the pain that he didn’t even realize she’d completely set him free until she rocked back on her heels and looked down at him.

She was too, too far away. He bolted up, startling her, if the slight widening of her eyes was anything to go off of, and twined his fingers through her hair, pulling her in for a kiss. She gasped and he licked into her mouth, something primal and possessive flitting through his mind when he could taste himself there.

More, he needed more.

Reluctantly sliding his fingers from her hair, Bucky made quick work of the straps on his tac vest, tossing it and the Kevlar shirt underneath to the ground in record time. He then hooked his fingers between the buttons of her flannel shirt and pulled, sending the buttons flying. The bra went next, gone so fast he couldn’t have even said what color it was, but then, who cared when her breasts were laid bare in front of him?

He buried his face against her chest as he lowered the two of them down onto the bed, reveling in her warm, silky skin, in the little whimper that came out of her mouth when he licked at the swell of one breast. The little button on her jeans didn’t stand a chance against his metal arm, and he had them unfastened and pushed down past her hips in no time. His cock slid along the groove where her thigh met her body as he rutted up against her, and he had the vague thought that there was a good chance he could get off again just from this.

She lifted her hips up and away, but before he could complain, she was on top of him again, legs bare and her jeans somewhere on the floor. Between the two of them, they managed to shimmy his pants the rest of the way off his legs until they were both finally, completely naked.

His mind got ahead of him, had a brief flash of what it would be like to watch this beautiful woman ride him, the way her breasts would bounce and her curls would dance. But that wouldn’t give him the contact he needed. Before she could react, he flipped them, laying his body on top of hers.

Relief sang through his skin wherever they touched. Slender fingers danced along his spine, across his back, and down his arms. She didn’t flinch at the touch of metal, though he did notice a small furrow between her brows.

But the toxin wouldn’t let him think about that, not when he could feel the heat radiating from between her thighs. He slipped his fingers between her folds, already slick with want, and found her clit. Darcy gasped, neck arching and exposing the lovely line of her throat. Bucky surged forward, mouth seeking that smooth column of skin and latching on.

“What about…” Darcy said. “This is about _you_.” Her voice broke on a gasp, and Bucky repeated the motion his fingers had just made, eager to get her to make that noise again.

And it was true. Inside of him there was a roil of want and pain and the urgency to take everything she was offering. But there was still a right way to go about things. “What kind of a man would I be if you didn’t enjoy this, too?”

With one more flick of his finger, she came, back lifting off the bed. As she drifted down from her high, Bucky lined himself up with her entrance, and sank into her in one slow movement. The warmth of her enveloped him, and it was as though the fire coursing through his veins mellowed. This felt right. _This_ was what he needed.

He began to move.

With each thrust, the pain that had consumed him morphed into pleasure. The slender arms encircling him tethered him to reality, to what was important. Bucky buried his face into the crook of Darcy’s neck, breathing in her scent. Her breathy moans filled his ears, pushing him toward his release, faster and faster until finally his orgasm crested over him like an arc of lightning dancing across the sky, bright and burning.

And then calm. The fire that had burned so relentlessly immediately died, leaving only the warmth of the woman beneath him, and their ragged breathing. Bucky collapsed beside this wonderful woman who gave him everything he needed when he needed it most, wrapped an arm around her waist to draw her closer, and almost immediately fell asleep.

When he woke, it was impossible to know how long he’d been out. Someone had dimmed the harsh white lights in the room to a point that would still allow doctors to view them via the two-way mirror if needed, but with no windows, it was impossible to know if it was day or night. Darcy slept on beside him, the gentle rise and fall of her chest seeming to beckon him to lie back down and rejoin her in slumber.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t believe what he’d done – _what he’d made her do_ – and couldn’t bear to think about it. So he did the only thing that could be done, given the situation. He got out of the bed, gathering up his clothing and dressing only enough to not cause a scandal in the hallway. Against all better judgment, he took one last look at the bed. Darcy’s cheeks were flushed pink, the kind of warmth that comes from a deep and comforting sleep. He found himself leaning toward the bed, as though his body was desperate to be curved around hers. But who was he kidding? There was no way she’d want him after lying and disappearing, and then he’d practically forced her to have sex with him? If she didn’t hate him before, she surely would now.

So he turned away from the woman who had saved his life, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, having rewatched Civil War today and seeing Bucky rip that containment chair to shreds, I realize it is laughable, LAUGHABLE, that I've written that he can't get out of some straps on a hospital bed, but to reiterate the tags, I DO WHAT I WANT.


	4. But It Definitely Would Have Ended Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolution!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't keep these two unhappy with each other for long.

I took a lot to dampen the generally jovial mood in the uppermost floors of Stark Tower. Like an alien invasion led by a deranged demi-god. Or the knowledge that awkward (in situation only) sex had taken place between one loud-mouthed lab assistant and a reformed super assassin.

Somehow, everyone knew. Like, not the barista working the Starbucks on the ground floor of the tower who made Darcy’s latte every morning, thank every god in Asgard. Though he _had_ been looking at her funny lately. But Tony had offered to screw with the wiring on James’ arm. And Thor had offered to stop withholding his godly strength whenever the two of them sparred. Even Rhodey – who barely even came around the tower considering his crazy schedule – had looked at Darcy like she was a muddy puppy and told her that everything would be okay.

Damn James Buchanan Barnes. And damn her, too.

Because any way she looked at it, circumstances aside, for her the sex definitely fell into the “Holy Fucking Hell _”_ category, and to be perfectly honest, not many of her encounters even came close. There was probably a category in between the sex she and James had labeled “Wowza!” and _then_ you’d find the category for her bulk of her sexual encounters, which was labeled, “Participation Awards for All!”

Darcy was muttering to herself (and if she was being honest, she was muttering about James and that little finger flick thingy he did, but thankfully no one was around to hear her, as Jane had been giving her a wide berth in the aftermath of “the incident”) when someone tapped her shoulder. She whirled around on her wheeled chair, eyebrow arched and don’t-fuck-with-me expression already in place. “What!”

Natasha Romanov, in all of her perfectly-coiffed beauty, stood before Darcy, her own eyebrow arched, though in amusement, and a manila file folder in her hand. “Rough day?” she asked, voice layered in so much saccharine sweetness the FDA should issue a warning.

Darcy liked Natasha. And quite frankly, she was both astonished and flattered that Natasha liked her back. But Darcy also knew Natasha was a Grade A Shit Stirrer. Time to proceed cautiously. So she took a deep, deep breath, looked the Black Widow dead in the eye, and said, “Can I help you?”

Natasha smiled a little wider. “Tony’s having a meeting in the conference room. Wants your input on something.”

Something was rotten in the tower of Stark. Darcy narrowed her eyes. “And he sent _you_? To come get _me_?”

“Wanted to stretch my legs,” Natasha said. God, but she could give Mona Lisa a graduate level course on how to make one’s face perfectly unreadable.

Darcy stared at her, willing her to break – as though _that_ was a thing that was ever going to happen. She would do better to just get whatever it was Tony wanted over with. “Fine. But one day, you’re going to teach me how to do whatever--” she waved her hands at Natasha’s face “-- _this_ is.”

Natasha’s eyes grew just a touch wider, her smile notched upward infinitesimally. “I have no idea what you mean.” She smacked the folder across Darcy’s chest and began to walk away, leaving Darcy to fumble for the file before its contents scattered across the floor.

Honestly, if Darcy didn’t know that Natasha liked her, she’d be fearing for her life right then.

She scurried after Natasha, who seemed to be headed for the conference room just around the corner from Jane’s lab. Somehow, she was nearly halfway there, and really, considering they weren’t too far off in terms of height, how in the hell did she manage to walk do damn fast?

“So what’s this all about?” Darcy asked. She flipped open the file folder, but the top page was blank. As was the next….and the next. They halted in front of a doorway, and Darcy stared up at Natasha. “This is blank.”

“Props help sell the lie,” the redhead said just before she pushed Darcy into the room. Darcy already had her hand on the doorknob when she heard the bolt click shut. Natasha appeared in the window set into the door. “Work it out, you two.”

No. Dear god, _no._

Darcy whirled around, already knowing what – or rather, _who_ – would be in the room with her. Sure enough, there, standing next to the conference table looking like sex on legs, was James.

 

~*~

 

Bucky wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when Steve had called a meeting. It’s not like the meeting itself was unusual, there were plenty of those. But it was more the fact that Steve hadn’t accompanied him to the conference room and that no one else had arrived yet. Stark was almost always there first, snacking on something, running overly complicated visuals on every screen on the room, chattering about everything to anyone who’d listen. But today? Nothing.

And then the door opened.

“Props help sell the lie,” said an all too familiar voice. Oh Christ. Bucky caught a glimpse of Natasha through the slim window in the door, but all his attention was drawn to the woman in the room with him as Natasha said, “Work it out, you two.”

Darcy turned to face him, and he could see the flush crawl up her throat to her cheeks, reminding him of the morning he’d left her bed a week ago. Unbidden, the thought came that if he could stop time to relive one minute forever, it would be waking up next to her that he’d want to loop again and again. Especially because that would mean he wouldn’t have to deal with the look she was giving him now, something that was equal parts terrified and angry.

“James--” she began.

“Please let me apologize.”

Her eyebrows flew to her hairline.

“Darcy, I am so sorry I wasn’t upfront with you from the get go. I was going to tell you everything. After coffee.”

At that, Darcy sighed and pulled out one of the chairs lining the conference table. She plopped into it and said, “The James Buchanan thing was cute. You know, once I figured things out.” She kicked her heels onto the table. “I mean, it wasn’t like you could whip _that-"_ she flicked her fingers toward his arm "-out in the middle of orientation without causing a scene. So, you don’t have to apologize for that. I mean, I can’t figure out why Tony made you go to new employee orientation aside from busting your balls…”

Bucky tried to suppress a smile. The mouth on this woman. “Pretty sure it fell into the ‘Ball Busting’ category of reasons.”

She gave him a small smirk, and he tried to pretend that his insides didn’t warm at the sight.

“Okay. But I’m also sorry about the sex.”

The smirk collapsed, creating a frown in its absence. Her feet dropped to the ground with a harsh smack and she rose to stand before him. “Excuse me?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts before they scattered like leaves in the wind. “It was _wrong_ , it was takin’ advantage, and I knew it and I let it happen anyway, and…”

Darcy slapped her hand over his mouth before he could make his grave any deeper. “Okay, one? Stop self-flagellating with your 1940s morals. I’m pretty sure they’re old and rusty and will give you tetanus. Two? I enjoyed it. Like, _a lot._ I mean, I could have done without the whole _we have to fuck or DEATH_ part of things, but you and me? It was good. Very good. And to be perfectly honest, something that was probably going to happen anyway.”

He wrapped his hand around her delicate wrist, gently tugging it away from his mouth. “We woulda happened anyway?”

Was that a smile she was holding back? God, but he hoped it was.

“That's not the point! I’m pissed,” she gave him a little shove and he let it jostle him, because hell, she deserved that and a lot more, “because you _left_. You ghosted on our coffee date, and there I was, thinking you didn't want anything to do with me, which sorry-not-sorry, but I'm awesome. So if you didn’t want to meet up, letting me know would have been polite. Then we're thrown into a room together with the marching orders of ‘orgasms or organ failure,’ and then! _Then!_ You took off _again!_ We had some fanfuckingtastic sex and you didn’t even _say_ anything. Not even a goddamn note!”

She made a move as thought to shove him again, and Bucky caught her wrists in his hands. “Darcy. Doll. I am so sorry. The first time I left was because we found a Hydra base, and then that one led to another and another. It was strictly no communications, otherwise I'd have been groveling for your forgiveness every damn day we were gone. And after we had sex? Doll, I was convinced you were going to hate me because of _why_ we had sex. So, please, Darcy, believe me when I say that if I had my way? You and I would _still_ be wrapped around each other in that bed.”

The tension slowly drained from her body as her gaze melted from furious to somewhat suspicious. She tugged at her wrists till he freed them, then placed them on his chest. “You mean that?”

He cupped her cheeks in his hands, thumbs stroking over the soft skin. “Very much so, Darcy. And I really need you to understand that because there is nothing more I'd like to do right now than kiss you.”

There was a gap of utter stillness, his breath frozen in his lungs as he waited for her to do something, _anything._ Then her lips crashed against his, tongue darting out to give him a taste. The steadily rising beat of their hearts filled his ears, his mind, _everything_. When she pulled away, she took his breath with her.

“So, um,” he started, “about that whole, ‘we were going to happen anyway’ thing…”

“Yeeeeah?” God but he loved the smirk dragging one corner of her lip upward. He wanted to lie her across his bed and see what it would take to make it waver and disappear.

“Well, I just wanted to say that’s not how it would have gone down, if I could have had things my way.”

She grabbed onto his shoulders and leaned back as though to get a better look at him. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he said. “Because the first thing I would have done is something like this.” He ducked down to place a line of kisses at the base of her throat.

Her pulse thudded under his lips and he could hear the catch in her throat as she said, “And then what?”

Mouth never leaving her skin, he said, “Then I would have worked my way up here.” He ran his tongue up her neck, stopping to kiss along her jaw.

She hummed in pleasure. “I think I would have had to take off your shirt,” she said as she slid her hands over his waist. “Because I'm pretty sure your pecs are a national treasure that deserve to be given their due.” The fabric bunched as she moved her hands upward, until Bucky was forced to lift his arms to get rid of the clothing. “And then I would have done this.” She pressed her lips just above his heart in an open mouthed kiss and gazed up at him as she dragged her lips across the slick, scarred skin where his metal arm joined his body.

A low moan that was almost a growl rumbled from between his lips. He advanced on her, forcing her to step backwards till she bumped into the conference table behind them. “I think that if you had done that, then there’s no way I would have been able to wait, and that I would need to have my head between your thighs as soon as possible.”

“I think I would have definitely been cool with that.”

 

~*~

 

Darcy kicked offer her flats as Bucky knelt before her, hooking his fingers into the waistbands of her leggings and panties and whipping them off her legs in one swift movement. How in the hell had he done that? It was the sex version of a magician snatching a tablecloth off a fully set table. She hopped onto the table behind her, shuddering as Bucky ran his calloused hands along the smooth skin of her bare thighs. His lips followed the path one of his hands made, and each time she thought he’d close the distance to where she needed him to be, he stopped, gave her thigh a kiss, then sealed his sinful lips to her leg and sucked.

This was it. She was going to die at the hands – mouth, really – of this man, quite possibly by vibrating to pieces, if her current state was any indication. Her leg was a mess, scattered with small red circles and the light scratches from his stubble. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She just spread her legs as he continued to kiss his way up higher.

Then, there was nowhere else for James Buchanan Barnes to place his kisses.

The first stroke of his tongue along her lower lips was quick. A tease. Something to make her breath stutter and her hips jerk reflexively. Another lick followed, spreading her open to his ministrations. He hummed appreciatively, as though savoring the taste of her, the slide of his tongue along her most intimate parts. Then he really set to work.

Darcy’s hand wound through James’ hair as he swirled his tongue around her clit in tight circles. Her body began to tremble and small, wordless moans spilled from her lips. He seemed to be in tune with her every need, knowing when to add more pressure, when to change his patterns to allow her orgasm to build...and build...and  _build_.

Her pleasure crested over her suddenly, like tripping and falling, but in the best way possible. She was weightless. She was a feather drifting on an open sky. And then James’ hands slid from her thighs to her waist as he rose to stand, and when she opened her eyes, she had the world’s best Welcome Back to Earth committee in front of her.

“I am 100% certain I wanna jump your bones now,” she said, as her legs stopped trembling.

“Doll, I think that might be the best sentence I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

With a quick little hop Darcy was off the table and standing before him. She grabbed her t-shirt by the hem and yanked it off, not even caring to see where it landed. As she fumbled with the clasp on her bra, James began to unbutton his jeans.

“Hello, friend,” Darcy said as his cock sprang free. “Nice to see you under more lucid circumstances.” She wrapped one hand around his shaft and slung her other around James’ neck, dragging him down for a kiss as she stroked his cock.

He moaned into her mouth as she worked him over, rubbing her palm over the head of his cock on every upstroke. Darcy wasn’t even sure if he realized he was making little thrusting motions with his hips in time with the movement of her hand. “Darcy,” James said, his voice ragged with want, “I _need_ you.”

“You have me,” she replied.

James set his hands on her hips and whirled her about until she was facing the table. He ran one hand along her spine, bending her over until she was pressed against the cool wood, and used the other to line his cock up with her entrance. With one smooth stroke, he slid inside of her.

On that first plunge, Darcy thought she could feel every ridge, every vein. Then her body adjusted to the stretch of him, and he began to move. His big hands spanned her waist, angling her just so and pulling them to meet every snap of his hips. The slap of skin meeting skin combined with Darcy’s breathy moans, echoing in the empty conference room. As James drove into her, Darcy began to feel that familiar coil of desire tightening low in her belly.

James’ rhythm became erratic as he let one hand slide from her hip to her clit and began to stroke. Her inner muscles fluttered, the beginning of her second orgasm coming on strong, and James’ fingers worked faster. Her pleasure hit so hard and so fast, Darcy couldn’t even make a sound except for a long, shuddering breath. Moments later James tumbled into ecstasy himself, propping himself up on the table with one arm to keep from collapsing on top of her.

Their ragged breathing was the only sound as they came down from their highs. The tabletop, which had been cool moments before, was too warm and sticky with sweat as Darcy pulled away. James spun her in his arms and began to pepper her cheeks, her forehead, the tip of her nose with kisses. “Give me a chance, Darcy,” he said between the whisper-soft brushes of his mouth on hers. “Just give me one more chance and I swear you won’t regret it.”

“Hmm,” she said, pressing as much of her against as much of him as was possible. “I might need more convincing.”

James caught his lower lip between his teeth, slowly releasing it as his mouth stretched into a smile. “Let’s go back to my place and I’ll spend the rest of the day ‘convincing’ you.”

“And they say Rogers is the man with the plan.”

 

~*~

 

Tony shuffled the armful of schematics from his right arm to his left, and fumbled for the doorknob to the conference room and found...air. That was odd. As he entered the room, the lights automatically switched on, allowing Tony to see that the doorknob had been mangled and was now hanging onto the door for dear life. Then he took a look around the conference room. 

At the opposite end of the conference table, everything was as it should be - chairs were neatly rolled up to the table, which was spotless. But all around Tony, the chairs were askew, some of them flung into the corners of the room. The glossy surface of the table was marred with fingerprints and smudges of a – to Tony, anyway – _very_ suggestive nature.

And was that?

Tony bent down, abandoning his schematics to rest on the floor as he retrieved a single pair of dark purple boyshort panties. With a roll of his eyes, he said, “Jarvis, please deposit one hundred dollars into Natasha’s account with the memo, ‘You won.’”

“I’d be happy to, sir,” the AI said.

“And send the cleaning crew up here,” Tony added. He sighed. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”


End file.
